The Dream Weavers
by Caroline
Summary: [RyanKirsten] Ryan and Kirsten's repressed feelings for each other come out to play in the subconscious. But can they keep the dreams from bleeding into reality?
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: The Dream Weavers  
SPOILERS: Series thru early season four (pre-Ryan/Taylor)

* * *

_Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony. Skin slid against skin, every touch inciting a moan or a gasp. Her nails dug in to his back and she heard him groan, a mix of pain and pleasure that was practically music to her ears as they continued to move together. Moonlight danced across them, painted them in stripes as it filtered through the blinds, shielding them halfway from prying eyes. Part of her wanted to get caught doing this. It was so wrong. So tawdry. But so completely perfect and natural._

_Her head lolled back against the pillows and he covered her throat with kisses while he thrust deep. Her loud gasp broke the silence, color bursting behind her now-closed eyelids with every thrust. Never had sex been so intense, so passionate, so completely bone-melting and eerily, forbiddenly right._

_His name rolled off her tongue like it was always meant to be there as he helped her climb toward the higher planes of ecstasy. Her name echoed back at her from his kiss-swollen lips, dripping with lust and adoration. His hands tripped down her body, trembling as they skirted across her waist. She had been needing this._

_She was practically vibrating with the need for release and she knew he sensed this, for his movements sped up. His arms tightened around her and his lips plundered hers. As their tongues twisted around each other, her mouth opened on a long moan. Her body was tensing and shuddering and she was so damned close. She had to say his name again, had to feel it on her lips and tongue._

_"Ryan..."_

_He groaned into her mouth in response and kissed her a little harder, thrust just a little deeper. And that was all she needed. She reached that edge, felt that one little push toward bliss and then she was flying, dragging him along with her. _

* * *

"Oh God!"

Kirsten shot straight up in bed, clutching her rapidly-thudding heart while she gasped for air. Her nightgown felt damp... as did the air around her. She was covered in sweat, and her body was tingling from head to toe. Her stomach somersaulted wildly as she was assailed with visions of the dream she'd just awoken from.

It had felt so real. So painstakingly, horrifyingly, wonderfully real. Almost as if he'd really been here with her, skin against hers... deep inside her. She gulped.

The attraction had always been there, had always lingered in the air between them. They had almost collided once, years ago, and it lit a spark. A spark that she secretly (desperately) wanted to light a fire with. But there was the age difference. And her marriage. And the fact that he was technically (sort of) part of the family. But that did nothing to lessen the attraction, or extinguish the spark. If anything, it made the idea of being with him even more irresistible. Temptation was the most wicked little high.

Kirsten glanced over at her husband, slumbering peacefully beside her, and was immediately overcome with guilt. This was precisely why what she felt for Ryan -- whatever that was -- had to stay buried. For her marriage's sake.

* * *

_The kitchen table was not the best place to do this, and he knew it. So did she. But neither of them cared. He threw his head back and moaned as he felt her muscles clench around him, and he thrust again... deeply. He loved to hear her gasp and more than that, he loved to hear her gasp his name. He loved the feel of her nails on his back, marking him, gripping him, begging for more. _

_Her long legs twined around his waist and she pulled herself closer... pulled his head down to hers. Her lips bruised his own and he had never felt anything so intense in his life. The heat, the passion, the way they fit together... it was unbelievably wrong, and yet there was something about it that was irrepressibly, inexplicably right. _

_Her fingertips skated across his broad shoulders and then dug in to his biceps. He winced in pain but the pleasure was far more potent, especially when she clenched around him again. _

_She kissed him once more and breathed his name into him... told him how much she had needed this. He echoed the sentiments back and planted open-mouthed kisses on her neck. Her head tilted, offered him more skin to kiss, and he was intoxicated by the heady scent that surrounded him. Her shampoo, her light perfume, sweat, and sex. He never wanted this to end. _

_"Kirsten..."_

_She tensed and began to shudder, babbled incoherently while raking her fingers through his short-cropped hair. Her muscles tensed around him one last time and that was when he saw stars._

* * *

Ryan jerked awake with a grunt and looked around the poolhouse, disoriented. His beater was soaked clean through with sweat and his pillow was damp from where he'd laid his head. His body tingled from head to foot and his heart thudded wildly in his chest as he recalled the dream he'd just startled awake from.

It had felt so real. So unbelievably, terrifyingly, fantastically real. Almost as if she'd really been here with him, against him... around him. He gulped.

It was safe to say that Ryan had had a thing for Kirsten since they'd met. There had been something in the air, something about the way their eyes had met that had sent a jolt straight through him, electrified him like never before. When they'd almost run into each other in the kitchen years ago, there was a definite spark. Trouble was, due to her marriage and the fact that he was living with them (not to mention the age difference), it was pretty much impossible for him to create enough sparks to stoke a flame.

And the worst part? Not that he couldn't have her. No, the worst part was the fact that not being able to have her made him want her even more... almost desperately so. Desire was such an intoxicating, dizzying thing... a wicked little high.

Ryan glanced through the poolhouse doors, toward the doors of the master bedroom, envisioning Sandy slumbering peacefully, trusting Ryan with every bit of himself. Then he was overcome with guilt at the very thought. Sandy _did _trust him. As did Seth. That was precisely why what he felt for Kirsten -- whatever that may be -- had to stay buried. For the sake of keeping their trust, if nothing more.

He flopped backward on his bed again, winced at the cold wetness to meet the back of his head from the pillow, and promptly rose to his feet. Maybe he needed a shower.

...A cold one.

* * *

TBC 


	2. Chapter 2

TITLE: The Dream Weavers  
CHAPTER 2

* * *

"Morning, honey," Kirsten heard while she sipped coffee at the breakfast bar, and she looked up to see Sandy coming toward her, smiling at her as he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

She smiled back, trying not to let her conflicted thoughts show through in her eyes. "Morning," she chirped back.

"Just heard from Seth, he went in to work early. Have you seen Ryan?"

Kirsten's face felt hot all of a sudden, and she turned her attention back to her ever-interesting coffee mug. "Nope, haven't seen him yet," she replied.

"Everything okay?"

She was not in the mood for this today. She could not handle the third-degree from her husband, as much as she loved him. Too many forbidden thoughts were flowing through her, too many images from her (way-too-vivid) dream the night before; she was edgy, and felt like she could snap if he asked so much as one more question.

"I'm fine, Sandy," she told him as evenly as she could. "Thanks for asking. I'm just a little tired."

"Well, maybe you should play hooky for the day," he suggested with a grin. "I've got clients all day, so you won't hear a peep from me. And I'm sure Ryan won't cause any trouble for you."

Her eyebrow flicked upward for only a split-second. _Not the kind of trouble that was easy to deal with, no. _"That's actually a good idea. I might just do that. I'll give Julie a call in a little bit."

"Alright, honey." Sandy pecked her cheek again and went about making his usual breakfast -- a bagel and a schmear of cream cheese. "I'll just grab something to go, and then I gotta get outta here. I'm hopin' I won't be late tonight, but I'll let you know."

"Okay, sweetie." Kirsten took another sip of her coffee and waited patiently, watched Sandy gather his things and head out the door. When he was gone, she heaved a sigh and let some of the tension out of her posture.

Maybe a day off _was _what she needed. She could clear her head. So after calling Julie and faking a mild illness, Kirsten took her coffee mug out onto the patio and sat down, staring at the pool while she drank.

She had to stop thinking about that dream. She had to stop picturing it. But... it was damn-near impossible. It had been so real, so vivid that she couldn't get it out of her head. The feel of him against her, over her... inside her (she gulped at that last thought and almost choked on her coffee). It was like he had actually been there. Not to mention she could hear his voice, smell that heady, unique 'Ryan' scent (something that she'd always thought was a combination of sandalwood and possibly Irish Spring soap)... and she could see the look in his eyes.

It was wrong for her to be thinking of him like this. He was twenty years her junior and he was living under her roof; he was practically a brother to her son. But... there was the spark. There was the way he looked at her (of which there were several different ways, depending on the day or situation), the way he treated her, and... of course he was gorgeous. There was also the way he talked to her--

"Kirsten."

That voice broke into her thoughts, yanked her from her reverie, and she looked up to quite the sight indeed. Ryan was standing on the patio, shirtless and sweaty, wearing his running shoes and sweatpants and drying himself off with a towel. She gulped again.

"Ryan." Her face felt really, incredibly hot. And she was not a blusher.

"What are you doing?"

Did he know she was thinking about him? She immediately admonished herself. That was completely silly. Sure, she and Ryan had a connection, but he wasn't a mind reader. "Uhh..." She looked down into her coffee-mug, half hoping to find some answers in the brown liquid.

Ryan, bless him, helped her out. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"No, I'm um... taking the day off today. Playing hooky." She managed to smile through her slight embarrassment -- she had to stop staring at him. "But if Julie calls, I've got the 24-hour flu bug."

"Got it." He winked at her and Kirsten was pretty certain that if she'd been standing, her knees may have buckled.

Damn that dream. She was way too sensitive now to any kind of gesture or move (word, even) on his part. She fired a question of her own back at him just to fill the increasingly awkward silence. "What are _you _doing?"

"I, uh..." He looked down at himself as if that would explain it. And... did he look a little embarrassed, too? "I went for a run. Early. Just got back."

"How early?"

"Like six."

Kirsten raised her eyebrows. "That _is _early. No wonder Sandy didn't see you."

Was it her imagination, or... did he look just a little guilty at the mention of Sandy?

"Yeah, I was up pretty early this morning. Couldn't sleep."

_Join the club,_ she thought. She resisted saying it just for the sake of not having to explain herself. "Ahh." She searched his face, then. "Everything okay?"

Now he avoided her gaze. Were his cheeks pinking? Ryan wasn't by any means a blusher, either. "Yeah, uh... everything's good. It's just a little insomnia."

"Maybe you should play hooky too."

He grinned. God, that smile of his. It was rarely seen, so anytime she got one it felt like an amazing gift. "I'm off today."

Oh, God. So it would be the two of them, alone together at the house... all day long. "Oh." She tried not to sound nervous, but she probably failed miserably. "Good."

"Yeah." He nodded, shuffled his feet awkwardly, and nodded toward the poolhouse. "I'm gonna go change. Maybe grab a shower or a... nap."

"Yeah." Kirsten rose to her feet, coffee mug forgotten about. "Yeah, me too." She closed her eyes in embarrassment a second. "I mean, not... with you. But... I'm gonna go grab a nap in my own room. Or on the couch." _Maybe a cold shower would help you too, Kirs, _she told herself.

"Okay." He was eyeing her strangely. "Soo... I'll see ya."

"Yep. See ya." She watched Ryan enter the poolhouse, give her a pseudo-wave and half-smile... and when he shut the door she plopped back down into her chair and buried her face in her hands, shaking her head at herself. What was wrong with her?

* * *

TBC 


	3. Chapter 3

TITLE: The Dream Weavers  
CHAPTER 3

* * *

Kirsten flopped from one side to the other, trying in vain to find a comfortable spot to lie down. No matter how she laid, it didn't feel comfortable. It didn't feel right. She huffed and flung the sheets back, then sat up and stuffed a hand through her hair. After that hell of a dream lastnight was she ever going to be able to sleep again? Maybe it was the idea that Ryan was just across the pool from her, all alone. She blew a puff of air through her lips and flopped back against the pillows again.

She had to get control of these feelings. They were... well, for starters they were unhealthy. Dangerous. Her marriage would be on the line, her relationship with her son, her reputation here in Newport. So much was at stake if she crossed the line. She had to stay on the healthy side of it.

She closed her eyes and wished -- hell, practically prayed -- for sleep to come. She was exhausted and she just wanted to fall into a wonderful dreamless slumber. A few minutes went by. Then a few more. And Kirsten was about ready to sit up and throw her pillow across the room when she heard the glass doors open.

"Kirsten..."

She sat up, eyes wide at the voice. "Ryan?"

He was in the doorway, still in his sweatpants and running shoes and still without a shirt. "Still awake?"

"Uh, yeah." She tucked the sheet under her arms, though she wasn't sure why. It wasn't as if she was naked or improperly dressed.

Ryan chuckled, a bit nervously it seemed, and ran a hand through his close-cropped hair. "Guess that was kind of a stupid question."

Kirsten flicked a smile back at him and watched him expectantly. When nothing was said for a moment, she contemplated asking him what was wrong. Then he spoke again. "What's going on here?"

That threw her off. "What?"

"This." He gestured from him to her, as if that was explanation enough.

Kirsten cut her eyes to the side, avoiding his gaze. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Kirsten." She heard him step toward her, and the next time she looked up he was standing at the foot of the bed.

"Ryan, look--"

"Something's been here since the beginning, and... I think you and I both know things have been a little... different lately." His sky-blue eyes pierced straight through her. "Especially this morning."

Kirsten squeezed her eyes shut and let it out... every mortifying syllable of her dirty little secret divulged. "I had a dream about you."

"So?"

She opened her eyes and met his, raising her eyebrows to get her point across.

He got it alright. His eyebrows climbed toward his hairline, and his mouth dropped on a silent 'oh.' "One of _those _dreams."

"Yes." She covered her eyes, ashamed. "I'm so sorry, Ryan, I didn't mean-"

"Kirsten-"

"I mean it's not like I planned to-"

"Kirsten-" The mattress dipped but she paid no attention.

"You're friends with my son and I'm married and you live here and-"

"Kirsten!"

She looked up when his hand cupped her jaw to find him sitting beside her on the bed. "What?"

Then his lips were on hers, his fingers were in her hair and it was better than that damned dream. Ryan was aggressive; his lips were firm and in complete control, as were his hands. Kirsten was always the one in control. Everything in her life had to be in her grasp at every second. With Ryan, she had no control. No control over her feelings, no control over this kiss... no control over the fact that he was lowering her to the pillows and climbing into the bed with her.

His breath mingling with hers felt oddly fantastic, and his weight on top of her was downright heavenly. The hard planes of his body were a more than perfect fit for her pliant curves, and when he nestled into the cradle of her hips, his hardness made her moan.

Apparently that was the permission he was looking for. His kisses moved to her neck while he started slipping the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders, and before she knew it the gown was a puddle of silk around her waist. He kissed her again while he stroked up her leg, bringing the hem of her gown up with it, and Kirsten started shoving at his sweatpants.

The kiss broke but their lips still featherly touched, and they were both practically panting with anticipation. "Ryan..." His name on her lips tasted even better than it did in her dream.

He groaned and kissed her deeply again. "I want you so bad," he murmured into her mouth.

"Then take me."

Ryan sat up in a flash and hurriedly got rid of his sweatpants, then pulled the nightgown from her body almost roughly before he climbed back into bed, guiding her under the covers. Then his lips and hands were all over her... anywhere he could reach, could kiss. He settled into the cradle of her hips again and slid his hand up her thigh, hooking one of her legs around his waist. He pulled back to stare into her eyes as he slid inside her, torturously slow... a low, throbbing pressure building at her core...

* * *

"God!" Kirsten awoke with a start once again and found herself drenched in sweat for the second time in the past several hours. Her chest heaved and she could still feel that throbbing pressure at her core.

She ran her fingers through her sweat-dampened, tangled hair and closed her eyes. Not again. Not another one to plague her thoughts. One was bad enough, but now two? What was happening to her? She would not be one of those women to risk her marriage, her reputation, everything for some meaningless sex. For a tawdry affair. And therein laid the problem. With Ryan, the sex would never be meaningless. With him, the affair wouldn't be tawdry.

Kirsten looked out the glass doors of the master suite and across the pool, to the poolhouse where her desire probably laid asleep. She worried her bottom lip slightly. She had a feeling that she'd never get respite from these dreams unless she told somebody. But could she tell _him_? The star of her dreams? Could she tell him what was going through her head without him thinking she was completely insane? Could she tell him without any damage to their already-tentative relationship?

She sighed and swung her legs over the side of the bed, getting up and heading for the door. Something had to be done.

* * *

TBC 


	4. Chapter 4

TITLE: The Dream Weavers  
CHAPTER 4

* * *

Ryan fought hard to fall asleep. He pulled every blind on the poolhouse closed so tight that not so much as a sliver of sunlight could pass through. He squinted his eyes shut so tight he was starting to give himself a headache. He tried sleeping with a pillow over his face just to make it darker, but... breathing had become an issue. He finally just ended up flinging his pillow across the room and flopping onto his stomach, burying his face in the mattress.

How much longer could this go on? This... thing... between him and Kirsten. It had been more than three years now and something had yet to be said. Ryan wasn't normally one for words, but all these unanswered questions, unvoiced longing... it had to be addressed. For sanity's sake, if nothing more.

It was unhealthy for him to think of Kirsten the way that he did. She took him in (though reticent at first), gave him a home... allowed him to be part of the family. She was kind, thoughtful... forgiving. Not to mention smart as a whip, witty (when she tried to be -- when it was just the two of them, at least), and... of course she was undeniably beautiful.

Ryan had never been religious, never really had a reason to believe in God, but he was now practically praying for sleep to come to him. He needed respite from these thoughts, these dreams, if only for a little while. But sleep refused him... for what felt like hours. He heaved a frustrated sigh and sat up, stuffing his hands through his close-cropped hair.

That was when he heard the poolhouse door open; saw a head of long blonde hair peek inside. "Ryan?"

"Kirsten." He almost reached for the sheet to cover himself, though he didn't know why. It wasn't like he was naked in here. Not from the waist-down, anyway.

"I'm sorry. I'm guessing you couldn't sleep, either?" As if realizing what she'd said, she closed her eyes and smiled sheepishly, cheeks pinking slightly. Kirsten blushing didn't happen very often. He'd succeeded in making her blush a few times inadvertently, and he had to admit the sight of it was pretty sexy. "That was kind of a stupid question, wasn't it?"

"S'alright. Come in."

She did so, and shut the door behind herself, leaning back against it when it was closed. For a long moment, they just stared at each other, Ryan wondering if Kirsten was going to say something, or if he was supposed to speak up first. Then he heard her voice.

"Something's happening."

"What do you mean?" He immediately started to get up, his brows knitting together in concern. "Are you okay?"

She held up a hand to stop him, smiling gratefully. "I'm fine. Thank you."

"So what do you mean 'something's happening'?"

"Between us," she clarified, her low tone causing his heart to skip several beats.

He cut his eyes to the side, tried to avoid her gaze though he could still feel it singeing his skin. "Uhh... what are you talking about?"

"Ryan, come on." He sensed her coming closer and when he looked up, she was standing at the side of his bed, looming over him.

She sat down and he scooted away a little bit, hyper-sensitive to the fact that he could feel her body heat. She smiled only halfway at his skittish behavior, understanding in her eyes. "Something's been here since the start. You know it, I know it."

"Okay..." Sometimes, there was just nothing better to say.

"And things have been different since your eighteenth birthday, we both know that too. Especially this morning."

He sighed, defeatedly, and laid it all out there. "I had a dream about you."

"A dream." It wasn't really a question, or a statement, and she raised her eyebrows.

He took the cue accordingly. "You and I were... we were..."

Her brows climbed even higher at the implication. "Oh! ...Oh. One of _those _dreams."

"Yeah." He couldn't help but look ashamed. "And I'm really sorry. I know that I live here with you, I know that you're married and that we can't ever--"

Her lips cut him off, pressing tightly, almost desperately to his. His hands floated to her head of their own accord and his fingers tangled in her hair. It felt much better than that stupid dream. Her hands on his arms, her tongue seeking his, her body pushing his back against the bed.

He rolled onto his back and dragged her with him, hands on her waist, as they kissed passionately. Their lips only broke when she sat up to pull off her peach silk robe and matching nightgown. He wanted to stop her... should stop her... but his body and mind refused to comply. Instead he shoved at his sweatpants, pushed them down just far enough, and grabbed her again to pull her back to his lips.

"We need this," she breathed into him, her hands stroking over his chest, and he nodded against her, covering her mouth again. He never could argue with Kirsten Cohen.

He grasped her hips, tightly though not tight enough to bruise her, as he guided her down onto him. Their eyes locked, fused together intensely as their bodies did. Her warmth enveloped him and the feeling was so exquisite Ryan felt his eyes roll back in his head.

* * *

"Jesus!" Ryan awoke with a start again and once more found himself covered in sweat. That was the second time in the past several hours. His chest heaved and he could still practically feel her around him, could feel the weight of her on him.

Not another dream. Not a second one to drive him insane, plague his thoughts endlessly until he exploded. He had to put an end to this. He wouldn't destroy everything he worked so hard for, just for some meaningless sex; for something wrong and tawdry. But that was the problem. Sex with Kirsten could never be meaningless. And though it was wrong in the conventional sense, he knew that them together would be oddly right.

He glanced out the half-open blinds, across the pool to the master suite. Something had to be done. He had to say something, do something, that would end all this subconscious torture. Could he tell Kirsten? Would she be receptive or would she throw him out? He got up and headed for the door.

* * *

TBC 


	5. Chapter 5

TITLE: The Dream Weavers  
CHAPTER 5

* * *

Kirsten sighed and tilted her head from one side to the other, massaging the shampoo into her scalp. Then she stood under the spray, tipped her head back, and let the suds cascade down her long tresses, down her back, toward the drain. She breathed in the steam and smoothed her hands down over her slick hair, cupping the back of her neck as she sighed. The cold shower idea didn't last. She had reached for the hot water knob the moment she stepped under the frigid spray.

And so the steam started to fill the bathroom, as did more thoughts about Ryan. She couldn't get him out of her head. It was the most maddening thing she'd ever experienced. Two dreams about him and he was stuck in her head permanently. And not just him, the Ryan she was around everyday, but dream Ryan too. The one that held her close, kissed her like she'd never been kissed before... knew her body inch by inch. She shivered despite the warmth of the water.

If this didn't stop it would destroy her; destroy them. It would eventually get to the point where she'd be unable to stop herself telling Sandy about it. Sandy would be hurt, feel betrayed... maybe even throw Ryan out (though Kirsten thought she may have been paranoid thinking that -- it was a little bit irrational after all). Seth would eventually be able to see something different in her eyes when Ryan was around -- he'd always been a smart boy -- and then he would lose respect for her. Things would get weird between him and Ryan as well. It would slowly but surely destroy the family.

So Sandy and Seth's reactions were pretty easy to guess. But what about Ryan?

* * *

Ryan stared blankly at the knob of the master bedroom's French doors, his hand outstretched halfway reaching for it. He couldn't help but hesitate -- he never really _had_ just walked into Sandy and Kirsten's bedroom on a whim, much less to confront the latter resident about the thoughts that had been plaguing him. There was something about this room that had always been off-limits. Ironic, he thought.

She was slowly consuming him, dream by dream, thought by thought. And not just Kirsten herself, the woman he saw and admired and adored every single day... but the Kirsten in his dreams as well. The one that was wanton, knew his body, called out his name, held him close. He shivered unconsciously. He had to keep the feelings buried, but how? It was the most maddening thing he'd ever experienced.

He shouldn't have even been standing there. As much as the master bedroom was off-limits to him, Kirsten was even moreso. He was overcome with guilt at the thought of what confronting her would do to the Cohens. Sandy would hear about it. That much was inevitable. Then he'd look at Ryan with disappointment, anger, sadness... maybe even a little disdain on his face. Seth would find out -- there was no way he could keep something so huge from Seth. From Seth, he'd get confusion and even more disappointment... possibly disgust and betrayal.

Seth and Sandy's reactions were easy to imagine. But what about Kirsten?

* * *

Kirsten secured the towel under her arms and wiped some of the fog from the mirror, staring at her reflection. A crease appeared between her brows as she wondered whether the pink hue of her cheeks was due to the warmth of the bathroom, or the thoughts still running rampant in her head. What _if_ she told Ryan?

Would she get the same reaction she was expecting from Sandy and Seth? Would Ryan, too, look at her with betrayal and disappointment in his eyes? Disgust? Would things get awkward between them until it got to the point where Ryan would just... move out to get away from her? She liked to think she'd built their relationship enough over the past few years, that they were close enough where that wouldn't happen.

Part of her suspected Ryan already knew, anyways. They had that kind of connection. They had since the beginning, come to think of it. Ryan had always had the unique ability to hold her with his eyes and read her completely, like an open book. Every thought, every feeling laid bare between her eyes and his.

Then there was the question that _if_ he already knew, was he okay with it? Was he having the same feelings?

Kirsten worried her bottom lip lightly with her teeth and flicked her damp hair off her shoulders. She had to speak with Ryan.

She had to know.

* * *

Ryan was now touching the doorknob to the master bedroom, thoughts still flying through his head at warp speed. What if he _did_ tell Kirsten?

Would he see the same confusion, hurt, disappointment on her face that he knew he'd see on Sandy and Seth's? Would things get awkward between them until it got to the point where they could no longer be in the same room together, or be alone together? He liked to think their relationship was stronger than that.

Over the past four years, he'd forged the strongest bond with Kirsten. Sure, he was like a brother to Seth and he was close with Sandy, but... the closeness he felt to them was completely different than with Kirsten. He felt a connection to Kirsten, bone-deep. He had the ability to discern her mood from one odd note in her vocal inflection.

He had the ability to see what she was thinking with just a glance into her eyes. What if he looked into those eyes and _didn't_ see disappointment and disgust? What if he saw... acceptance? Returned feelings? What then?

Ryan took a deep breath and twisted the knob... opened the door to the master bedroom. He had to talk to Kirsten.

He had to know. "Hey Kirsten?"

As he looked up, the object of his dreams appeared in the doorway from the bathroom, wearing some very dreamlike attire -- nothing but a towel -- and looking shocked to see him. "Ryan!"

His eyes flicked over her and he wished he could remember how to breathe.

* * *

TBC 


	6. Chapter 6

TITLE: The Dream Weavers  
CHAPTER 6

* * *

Kirsten drew in a breath at the sight of Ryan in the master bedroom. She was suddenly very aware she was wearing nothing but a towel... especially when she caught his gaze inching over her from head to toe... and she shifted her weight nervously, toying with the still-dripping ends of her hair and averting her eyes.

"Um..." Ryan seemed to startle back to coherence and shook his head as if snapping from a trance. "I'm... sorry, I uh... I didn't know you'd be--"

"No, that's okay, Ryan," she exhaled with a nervous smile, shifting her weight again. She pressed her hand to the knot in the towel, making sure it was still secure. "What's up?" She fought not to let her gaze drift below his waistline as she asked that.

"I just uh... I thought maybe we should... talk?"

Kirsten fingered her long, wet tresses, averting her gaze once more. Her cheeks felt warm again. "Talk? Sure, w-we could talk. About what?"

"Um..." Again, words failed him as he scratched nervously behind his ear, trying to avert his eyes from all the flesh begging for his attention. "I don't... I don't remember."

"Okay..." Kirsten came toward him, watched the panic light his eyes, and she moved past him to the glass doors, keeping their gazes locked the entire time. She shut the glass door, pressed on it firmly as if that would seal them in a soundproof chamber. "How about I start."

"Okay."

Kirsten cleared her throat, took a deep breath. However this conversation turned out, it would change everything. Was she prepared for another shift in the foundation of her life? The last one was four years ago when this complex young man blew into her world. When they met eyes for the first time and she was overcome with a bolt of sexual attraction. Was she ready to be shaken up again? She raked her gaze over Ryan again and decided that something had to give.

"Ryan, I know things have been kind of... tense... between us lately--"

"Lately?" he balked, and Kirsten was surprised he was so readily joining in.

She smiled and amended, "Things have been _more _tense between us, then. Especially since your last birthday."

Ryan nodded. "Yeah."

"And... I don't mean to create even _more _tension, but..." She took a few steps toward him. "I have to tell you something."

Ryan nodded once again and stepped toward her in turn. "Yeah, I have something I need to tell you, too."

They met each other's eyes, as they'd done hundreds of times before, and just stood there staring at each other, searching each other... waiting for someone to take the plunge. Then, finally, it came out in unison. "I had a dream about you."

Then, again, in unison... "What?"

Ryan shook his head and held up a hand, as if to halt any more simultaneous exclamations. "Wait... you had a dream about me?"

Kirsten nodded. "And... you had a dream about me?"

Ryan nodded back. "Yeah."

She searched his eyes again before asking tentatively... almost timidly... "What was the dream about?"

"Kirsten..." Ryan tilted his head and held her gaze, trying to get his point across without words.

Predictably, Kirsten was right there with him, and her brows twitched upward briefly in understanding. "Oh."

"And... _your _dream?" he prompted.

Still staring into his eyes, Kirsten opened her mouth to respond. Then, upon seeing in his eyes that no words were necessary, she closed her mouth and bit down softly on her lower lip, shyly averting her gaze.

Ryan stared at her, dumbfounded. "Huh."

She nodded and clutched her towel nervously. "Yeah."

"So--"

"We can't act on it, Ryan," Kirsten blurted.

"Right. Yeah." He cast his gaze to a spot on the floor. "You're married."

"Yes."

"And... and we live together."

"Right."

They were holding each other's gaze now, a million things left unsaid now thrust into the silence between them, into the space between their bodies. Both of them shifted their weight from one foot to the other, each trying to hold back from what they really wanted to do. "Look," Kirsten sighed, "There's obviously something here. Some sort of connection, chemistry, attraction... whatever it may be."

"Do we even know?" Ryan raised an eyebrow.

Kirsten shook her head and nervously toyed with her damp hair again. "No."

Boldly, he took a step forward, not missing the sharp intake of breath he got from Kirsten in response. "Aren't you just a little bit curious?"

Kirsten was fighting a losing battle, trying in vain to get her heart to stop racing, trying and failing to keep her breathing even. She swallowed, the action becoming more of a gulp when Ryan took one more step forward. "Sure I'm curious."

"Then--"

"No." She took a step backward, a step away from his body heat, a step back toward clear thinking. "We can't, Ryan, you know that. We need to just... leave this alone."

"So we need to just ignore that we're feeling this way? Pretend that there's nothing here?" A vertical crease appeared between his eyebrows now and he looked almost angry with her. "That sucks, Kirsten."

"I'm sorry. We just... we have to acknowledge that we both feel this way and then... try to move past it."

Ryan shook his head, folding his arms across his chest. "I don't think I can."

"Well you have to. We both do." She averted her eyes to the floor again, placed a hand on her towel, and told him in a low voice, "I need you to leave now."

He lifted his eyes to hers...

"I have to get dressed," she clarified, making sure to keep her tone soft in the hopes of easing some of his ire.

It worked. He seemed to deflate, disappointment clouding his sleepy blue eyes... and for a moment Kirsten wanted to take back the last two minutes. She wanted to drop her towel to the floor, hold out her arms and tell him he could have his way with her. She wanted to feel his body against hers, pinning her down, skin sliding against her own.

But instead, she just watched him turn away, mumble, "Okay," and leave the way that he came in.

And thus came the shift in the foundation. Everything had changed.

* * *

TBC 


	7. Chapter 7

TITLE: The Dream Weavers  
CHAPTER 7

* * *

Kirsten closed her eyes and tried to focus on the sound of the butter sizzling in the pan. Then she focused on the birds chirping outside the window... the feel of the gentle Newport breeze filtering in, dusting her arms with goosebumps for a moment. She focused on anything and everything to keep from thinking about what she knew she shouldn't be thinking about.

Everything was out in the open between her and Ryan, something that was both a blessing and a curse. For four years they'd performed a dance; an intricate dance woven of innocent flirts, subtext-filled words, and potent glances. For four years they shared the unspoken ability to read each other both with their eyes and by sense alone -- hell, when they weren't even in the same city they could read each other like open books.

Kirsten recalled a moment just months ago when Ryan had called from Berkeley -- he knew, just from a few words spoken by her, that she was hiding something from him -- that she wasn't fine like she had claimed to be. While a huge part of her loved being so in tune with someone once again (she and Sandy had been too disconnected too many times in the last several years), another part of her was scared to death of the implication of such a feeling. Before Ryan, Sandy had been the only man that could connect with her on that level. So what the hell did this mean?

What she felt for Ryan was inexplicable. It went beyond the desire and passion that was touched upon (quite literally) in her dreams. She loved him, in about a million different ways, each one winding about the other, twisted and complicated, but strong and unbreakable... like threads of a rope. She felt a connection to him, bone-deep... and knew without him speaking a word that it was the same for him. He loved her, that much had been obvious since his first year living in Newport. When he had welled up saying goodbye to her, she knew.

And Ryan wasn't one to express his feelings much -- at all, really. He struggled with returning Marissa's declaration of love, and she knew for a fact he'd never said it to Lindsay or Sadie. And yet, with her, the words had tumbled out effortlessly, at a time she needed to hear them the most.

_"I don't want to see that happen again to someone I love."_

It had rolled off his tongue without practice, without hesitation, without any hemming or hawing on his part. It had spilled out and his eyes had connected with hers and she knew the declaration was genuine. She had never had a chance to say it back to him without Seth or Sandy present. She had looped him and Seth together when saying her "I love you" before going off to Suriak. She had wanted to say it to him privately.

And now everything was out in the open. The dance was done, their feelings were laid bare, and she'd shot down any possibility of exploring what this new thing was between them. And thus came the blessing, and the curse. To explore something with Ryan would jeopardize her family. Sandy and Seth would never speak to her again. Ryan would blame himself, he'd pack up his lone duffel bag of belongings and take off. And Kirsten would have to live without him. A huge price to pay for a few brief moments of complete and utter bliss.

She couldn't let it happen.

* * *

Ryan sighed and braced his hands on the porcelain sink in the poolhouse bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror for what felt like hours. He tried to focus on tracing his facial features, finding every scar and then naming where it was from. He focused on the humming of the lightbulb above him, that he knew was just a day or two away from burning out. He tried to focus on anything and everything to keep his mind off the one thing he knew he shouldn't have been thinking about.

There were no secrets left between him and Kirsten. Not about their feelings, anyway. And it was more than desire. More than the (blinding) passion that was explored in his subconscious. He was enamored with her, completely infatuated... quite possibly very much in love. Hell, his heart had been hers for the taking since he'd looked into her tear-filled eyes all those years ago while she begged him to stay.

A huge part of him was relieved everything was out in the open... like a four-year-old weight had been lifted from his shoulders. But then there was the other part of him that was terrified of what this new honesty meant. Four years of hiding and denying was done. He was exposed and vulnerable, his heart laid bare in the palm of the woman it had belonged to since the beginning. The only woman to make that heart skip wildly, and once in awhile stop it altogether. The woman he loved without question, the one he adored and worshipped above all the others.

Kirsten held the power to crush him completely. She already had, in a way, being so adamant in the fact that they could never act on the feelings they'd just confessed to each other. Or rather... _sort of _confessed. Nothing had actually been said in the way of a confession. There were no melodramatic declarations of undying love or altruistic sacrifices for the other's happiness. Just a simultaneous blurting of having dreams about each other. And the looks they'd exchanged had said it all. They always did.

She was right to erase the chance of them together before anything could have started. To start something with Kirsten would destroy the Cohens, as heavenly as being with her would be. Seth would never look at him or speak to him again... Sandy would probably throw him out... and Kirsten would end up taking the brunt of their hatred with him gone. He couldn't do that to them. He couldn't do that to _Kirsten_. He loved her too much to let her face such things on her own.

Ryan pushed himself away from the sink and headed for the door, determination in his gait. He had to let her know he understood her reasoning for saying what she'd said. He had to tell her that she was right.

They couldn't let this happen.

* * *

TBC 


	8. Chapter 8

TITLE: The Dream Weavers  
CHAPTER 8

* * *

"Kirsten..." Ryan strode into the Cohen kitchen without preamble and walked right up to his desire.

Kirsten, who'd been busy at the stove, whirled around with a spatula in hand, looking surprised to see him. "Ryan."

"Look, I want to apologize for earlier," he dove right in. No sense beating around the bush. "You're right -- whatever this is, whatever's happening or has _been _happening between us... we can't act on it."

"Uh-huh." Kirsten was looking at him, but to Ryan it seemed she was off in space. She was almost looking _through _him.

Then her eyes flicked over him briefly. And Ryan realized that though Kirsten had insisted they couldn't act on their feelings... she never once indicated that she didn't want to. Her exact words had been, "_We can't act on it, Ryan._" Not that she didn't look at him that way. Hell, she had the same kind of dream he'd had. As badly as he wanted her, she wanted him right back. That mere thought tripped him up for a moment. "Uh... so..."

"Right," she responded with one definitive nod.

They each grew silent... watched each other awkwardly. Ryan's eyes drifted to the spatula in Kirsten's hand. "What are you making?"

"Umm..." She turned over her shoulder as if she'd forgotten what it was she was doing, and glanced into the skillet on the stove. "I felt like having an omelette."

"Smells like it's burning."

"Oh, no..." She lifted up one corner of the omelette and immediately wrinkled her nose at the sight of dark brown on the bottom. She glanced back at Ryan disappointedly. "Ryan..."

He chuckled at her pout. "Fine, I'll make one for you." He turned off the burner and took the skillet over to the sink, dumping the burnt omelette in the garbage before washing off the pan. He felt Kirsten leaning on the counter beside him and he tried not to look up -- the tension between them was already somewhere in the stratosphere. His eyes snuck a glance at her anyway.

"Just show me how to do it so I'll know for next time."

"Okay," he agreed, and put the newly-washed pan back on the burner. "Butter, please." He smiled a thank you at Kirsten when he was handed the tray of butter, and let some start to melt in the pan. "You want to watch for it bubbling, and then--"

Kirsten rolled her eyes and cut him off. "I think I can handle melting butter, but thanks for the vote of confidence."

He winked. "No problem. Alright, now hand me the eggs."

His heart flipped at the flirtatious smile she sent him. "How many?"

"Two is fine."

She plucked two eggs from the carton and outstretched her hand, offering them to him. On the way from her hand to his, however, one of the eggs slipped -- hit the floor with a wet smacking sound. The second followed soon after. "Dammit!" Kirsten exclaimed, half-chuckling.

Ryan couldn't help but chuckle back at the sheer idiocy of their situation and grabbed the roll of paper towels. "Was that the last of the eggs?"

"Yes."

"Ah." He nodded and smirked down at her.

She gave him a look through her lashes, a facetious glare, and held out her hand for the paper towels. "Just get down here and help me clean this up."

Ryan grinned, but did as she bade and knelt down with her, assisting her with mopping up the mess. "Wow, I didn't think you were that clumsy."

Laughing, Kirsten playfully smacked his shoulder. "Oh stop it. My hands were shaking, I couldn't help it."

"Why were they shaking?"

"Why do you think?" she chuckled, and that was when their eyes met.

The laughter faded, as did everything else around them. Ryan was almost floored by her implication. Her hands were shaking because of him? Because of the proximity? The tension? Had he ever had the ability to do that to a woman? He knew he had talent when it came to things of a sexual nature -- it was one of the few things he was actually confident about. But to make a woman's hands shake without touching her, without kissing her...

Ryan opened his mouth, fighting for speech. What the hell could he say to that? If he told her she made him shake too that would just open up a bigger can of worms. There had to be something that could be said to ease the tension. Things wouldn't be like this forever, would they? Hardly being able to look at each other, talk to each other, be around each other without this overwhelming need to explore the forbidden?

When nothing came to him except the painfully-irresistible urge to kiss Kirsten, he stood up and disposed of the dirty paper towels. "Uh, do you think we got it all?"

He watched Kirsten swallow, hard, and nod, keeping her gaze from his. "Yeah, yes." She handed him her own paper towels and he tossed those out as well.

Then, he held out a hand to help her to her feet, which she took with a tiny (nervous?) smile. "Thanks."

"Sure." He grasped her hand tightly and hoisted her to her feet.

When Kirsten tried to brush past him, Ryan just barely caught her whisper about going to the store for more eggs before he gave a tug on her hand and pulled her close. Deftly, he swept his hand under her long blonde tresses and cupped the back of her neck.

Alarm lit Kirsten's eyes for just a moment before the feeling of being so close to her desire caught up with her. She felt her eyelids grow heavy, felt herself zeroing in on his lips. She gripped his shirt at his sides, knees practically buckling at the sensation of him cupping her face. His gruff whisper against her lips did her in.

"Let me kiss you, Kirsten. Just once."

"Yes," she whispered back desperately, and as their lips touched, their eyes met for one brief second before snapping shut. And from that split-second look they both knew... there wouldn't be just this one kiss.

* * *

TBC 


End file.
